Connections
by whoa nellie
Summary: This 2003 ASC award winner in the Picard and Crusher category occurs during TNG season seven episode 'Attached.'


Title: Connections   
Author: Whoa Nellie (whoa_nellie40@hotmail.com)   
Series: TNG   
New 1/1   
Rating: R   
Codes: P/C   
Summary: A dream is a wish your heart makes. This 2003 ASC award winner in the Picard/Crusher category occurs during TNG season seven episode 'Attached.' 

Author's notes: Feel free to archive to any pertinent site. This story has been edited down from an NC-17 to an R-rated version for this site. If you are over 18 and prefer to read the original version, it and our other stories can be found at our websites listed on our author's page. 

As always: Paramount owns all the marbles, we just have a lot more fun playing with them.   
reviews are always appreciated - posted or e-mail. 

Connections 

Jean-Luc Picard stared into the fire as it burned against the dark Kesprytt night. This was the hardest conversation he'd ever had, forced to face the truth of a lifetime of thoughts and emotions and unable to lie even to himself without Beverly knowing the truth. He made himself look at her, the torture a penance for the guilt he'd carried all those years. Choosing his words carefully, he tried to soften the blow of his words with the strength of his friendship. "And then, little by little, I realized that I didn't have those feelings anymore . . . twenty years is, after all, a long time." 

"And now we're friends." Beverly Crusher held his hand briefly, giving a slight squeeze before letting go and looking back at the fire. 

"Yes, friends." he agreed, still wrestling with the idea of her knowing what he had kept secret for so long. Coveting your dead best friend's wife was not the most noble of thought or deed. 

She abruptly stood, "Well, we still have a lot of ground to cover tomorrow. We should get some sleep." 

"Right," Picard watched as Beverly walked over to the other side of the fire. He knew that something had changed between them, he could feel a discomfort from her that carried a vague sense of disappointment and loss. Their friendship had become valuable to him, there had been a few romantic liaisons over the past seven years including one very serious woman, but Beverly's presence in his life had become a mainstay of his daily routine. Now she didn't know how to act around him and he knew it. She laid down on the ground and curled up, facing away from him. After a moment, he followed her. On the hard ground with his hands under his head, he gazed up at the stars and tried to clear his mind just as he knew she was trying to do. His eyes began to drift shut, the lines between reality and fantasy blurring into dreams. 

............................................... 

The ground was hard and unyielding beneath them. He leaned forward on his elbow, his mouth settling over her full, lush lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His hand moved to cup the back of her head and pull her more fully into his kiss. Slipping his tongue past her parted lips to stroke and caress the warm, moist cavern of her mouth, he felt her lips and tongue respond, her arms sliding around to hold him close. Gently, he rolled her onto her back and covered her body with his own. Her sweet scent wafted through the night air, every breath pressed the supple curves beneath him closer to his own throbbing body. He had denied himself for far too long, this was what he wanted, this was who he wanted more than anything. Everything about this woman was irresistible, more intoxicating than Romulan ale and he couldn't believe that he'd ever even tried to resist her. Breaking the kiss, he raised up slightly to memorize everything about this moment, a memory to last a lifetime. A rosy flush highlighted her ivory skin and accented the delicate features of her face and then her eyes fluttered open, the bluest eyes he'd ever seen were staring up at him, silently urging him to what they both wanted so badly. No words were needed, their bodies acting on instinct alone. Like a mirror image of his own ardent desires, her body moved in perfect synchronization with his. Almost instinctively, she molded to herself to him, their bodies striving in unison for the pinnacle of pleasure. His roar of triumph merged into a feral duet with her cry of abandonment, "Oui, Vash!" 

............................................ 

The captain's quarter's on the Enterprise glowed with warm candle light. Dinner had been pleasant and, after the recent events on Kesprytt, quiet conversation over an after-dinner aperitif was almost surreal. Beverly took the glass Jean-Luc handed her and sat on the sofa, relieved that he backed away to sit in the chair facing her. There were things that needed to be said, closure to an unwritten chapter of their lives. Unsure of how to begin the conversation, she studied his face as he looked around, in his glass . . . everywhere but her. "Penny for your thoughts." 

"I was just thinking that, as distracting as it was, I was beginning to get used to hearing your thoughts and I find that I miss it," Picard admitted. 

Beverly smiled fondly, "So do I; it was very intimate." There was the opening, discussing the emotional intimacy they'd shared. "You know, last night I couldn't sleep." 

"Oh?" 

"I was awake for several hours and, thanks to the implants, I got to hear some very interesting dreams of yours," she said. That dream, more specifically his feelings during the dream, had been very powerful. 

Trying to suppress an urge to blush, he gave a casual chuckle. "A man cannot be held responsible for what his mind does while he's asleep." 

Beverly thought back to one particular morning when their usual breakfast had taken an intriguing turn. "What about when he's awake?" 

He sat up and reached for her hand, almost pulling back when she didn't immediately respond. Once she had hesitantly laid her hand in his, he said, "So now that we've had this unique experience, what do we do? 

"What do you mean?" She was stalling, unable to believe the direction he was taking this conversation in. His thoughts and feelings about her when they were connected--when he finally admitted that he'd loved her--they had all been in past tense. He didn't feel that way about her anymore and they both knew it. He felt that way about someone else now, someone whom he didn't think he could ever have. 

"You know exactly what I mean." 

Hoping that she was wrong about what he was insinuating, Beverly replied, "No, I don't. The implants have been removed, remember?" 

Without releasing her hand, Picard moved over to sit next to her, cradling her hand in both of his. "Now that we know how each of us feels, perhaps we should not be afraid to explore those feelings." 

She had to force herself not to react. Once she would have been his first choice and if Jack's ghost hadn't been between them, there might have been something there. She wasn't his first choice anymore and she knew it. She was just the convenient choice in place of the woman who had left him for the excitement that Q offered instead of the heart that he offered. He wanted Vash, he craved the feelings that Vash created in him and he dreamed of Vash. Friendship was all that the two of them had now, all that they would ever have. She leaned forward and brushed her lips across his cheek in a gentle kiss, fighting the tears that threatened. "Or perhaps we should be afraid." 

There was nothing left to say, he would always be a special part of her life, a valued friend; but she'd known real and abiding love with Jack and she couldn't imagine spending the rest of her life knowing that Jean-Luc's feelings for her were borne out of loss of the one he really loved and the emptiness of looking back on years spent alone. She deserved more than that, they both deserved more than loving the one you're with only because you can't be with the one you love. "I think I should be going now." She kissed him one last time and picked up her glass, carrying it over to the table not sure if she wanted him to stop her or not. When he didn't say anything, she set her glass on the table and started toward the door. Tomorrow they would have breakfast as usual and everything would be as if none of this had ever happened. "Good night." 

"Good night," came his quiet reply. 

Pausing outside the door for a moment, she reflected on all of the 'could have beens' and 'might have beens' if only . . . With wistful wisdom, she thought, ' I'm not the woman of your dreams, at least not any more.' 

***FINIS***   



End file.
